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There were days--many of them, lately--that he needed to just be Bash. Not Sebastian: Henry's bastard, Diane's son, Francis' half-brother. But simply himself, no responsibilities, no role to fill. It was what francis envied most about him, he knew. Even more than their father's favor, Francis wished for freedom--to take off into the woods at a moment's notice and not send the court into a panic.
Funny, that, Bash thought. Francis envied him? He didn't see much in his life worth envying. That had suited him just fine, until she showed up. Bash had never wanted much. Certainly not a person, not like this. And now? Now Mary was with Francis, and it was only just shy of permanent and official, and now it killed him that there could be anything in his life for Francis to envy.
He could handle it, of course. He just needed a little time to himself. Time to prepare himself to face them. To face her. His mother had never approved of his tendency to vanish for days at a time, but then, now that she wasn't living in the palace anymore, perhaps she wouldn't even notice his brief absence.
Now it was starting to rain, though, and he was getting hungry. He'd packed enough food for about two days, and his two days were up.
He brushed a dripping lock out of his face and trudged back to the palace, wondering why he'd decided to stay on foot. By the time he made it to the gate, he must have been quite a sight, because the guards let him through with nothing more than a sympathetic glance. Although he knew he should go up to his rooms and change out of his wet clothes, Bash decided instead to make for the kitchens. Not only would there be food, but they usually had a warm fire going at this time of night, and the overnight staff were well used to the sight of him.
Entering quietly, he toed off his boots and shrugged out of his jacket, leaving them with his empty pack at the doorway. As expected, there was a small fire glowing in the back--less expected was the kitchen's other occupant.
Mary turned quickly when she heard him stumble against a table, her mouth opening into an "o" of surprise as she folded her arms in front of her chest. It was that movement that brought Bash's attention to the fact that she was clad only in a nightdress and holding a knife.
He cleared his throat, trying to avoid looking at her. "...Your Grace."
She frowned at him. "Mary."
"Sebastian," he replied with an easy smile, extending his hand without thinking.
Her laughter was the sweetest sound he'd ever heard, but his smirk quickly faded as he remembered their respective duties.
"I'm sorry, Yo--Mary. I'd offer my coat, but I'm afraid it wouldn't be of much use to you in its current state."
Mary stifled a giggle, eyes smugly assessing his drenched clothing. "Oh, but I'm not cold." Her tone clearly indicated that she was aware of his meaning but choosing to ignore it. She set down the knife and held out a piece of the apple she'd been slicing. "You look hungry, Bash."
Bash was, in fact, probably the furthest he'd ever been from hungry in his entire life, despite his early cravings. "I think I should probably go. I'll...I'll just leave you to it."
"Nonsense," Mary told him. "If you're not going to eat something, you should at least sit down by the fire and explain why you've been avoiding me."
Leave it to Queen Mary to get right to the point.
"I haven't been avoiding you," Bash replied, taking a seat in front of the fire and still looking everywhere but at Mary.
"Ha!" Mary looked sheepish for a split-second at the unladylike exclamation, and then returned to the task at hand. "I'm not stupid, Bash. Ever since Francis and I announced our engagement. And then you just disappeared! What was I supposed to think?"
"Maybe I was avoiding Francis," Bash shrugged. "And you just happened to always be with him." He cringed internally. That part he probably shouldn't have said out loud. If he could hear the bitterness in his own voice, surely Mary would be able to, as well.
Her voice softened, and she stepped closer to the fire. "You know this is what I have to do. To protect my people. And Francis and I, we do--"
"I know!" Bash didn't mean to cut her off, didn't mean to snap. "I'm sorry, I know. I know this is your duty and I know you and Francis are in love and I think it's wonderful and you'll both be very happy with your crowns and countries and--"
Suddenly Mary's lips were on his and Bash wasn't sure when she'd gotten so close but here she was, here they were, kissing like they were going to die tomorrow, and it was Mary kissing him, and she wasn't intoxicated at all, she was just...Mary. Queen Mary, his brother's fiancee, kissing him in the kitchen in the middle of the night.
Bash pulled away, reluctantly, and Mary let him.
Curling her legs up under herself, she folded her arms across her chest again and just gazed at him, expression unreadable.
"You shouldn't have done that," he told her.
Mary shrugged. "Maybe not." She scooted closer until she was leaning against his side and he could see where his shirt was soaking into her thin sleeve.
Looking down at her, Bash felt a sudden rush of the feeling he'd been trying to bury for the last several days. His arm pulled Mary close, acting without his brain's conscious instruction or consent, and Mary snuggled closer. Then suddenly, she sat up.
"We really should get you out of those wet clothes."
Sebastian would have said no. Really, he would have. But heartbroken, two-days-in-the-woods, running-from-his-feelings Bash? Well, he knew he should say no. But if there was a part of him that wanted to, it was a part of him he couldn't hear.
He let Mary pull the shirt over his head, and then they sat there for nearly thirty seconds, just looking at each other. It would have been the perfect time to end it, of course. To say this was a terrible idea let's never speak of it again.
But then Mary broke their staring contest by standing and taking the hem of her nightdress. Bash, unsure of what he should do (his experience most certainly did not include royalty), tentatively reached for her hands. Mary smiled shyly and let him stand up next to her, pulling the flimsy shift up so slowly it was almost reverent.
As the hem neared her waist, Mary reached to undo his trousers, tugging them down to his hips and allowing herself a satisfied little grin. She looped her arms around his neck, pressing light kisses to his jaw, and Bash forgot everything else. He lifted her up onto the nearest table and tangled his fingers into her hair, pulling out all the pins and generally making a mess of things--although Mary didn't seem to mind. She was too busy wrapping her legs around his waist and trying to catch his lips in her own.
Bash pulled back for a moment, his eyes serious. "I assume you and Francis have...?"
Mary nodded. "Yes, once. But--oh! We should probably...." she trailed off, looking at him expectantly. "I mean, you know ways to... Don't you?"
Bash caught her hands in his own, brushing his lips against her knuckles. "It's a bit different than what you and Francis did, i'm sure."
Mary shrugged, trailing her fingers down his bare chest. "Sounds good to me." Her slight smile turned wicked when her hands reached his stomach and she coaxed out a hoarse gasp.
Sliding his hands up her sides, Bash matched her grin and tightened his fingers around her waist. "Let me show you?" Mary nodded her assent, and Bash withdrew a hand to wet his fingers. "Just tell me if it hurts. I'll go slow."
And slow he went, until Mary was breathing in pants and hissing at him to keep going, harder. Bash obliged, and his grin widened as she spasmed around his fingers, biting her lip and squeezing her eyes shut. When she finally opened them, Bash was smirking at her, but her eyes quickly traveled from his face downward, and she returned the smirk.
"Having a...situation?" Mary ventured smugly.
Bash shrugged her off. "You don't need to w--"
Shaking her head firmly, Mary took him in hand. "Just because I've never done this before doesn't mean I shouldn't give it a shot," she grinned up at him. "Just tell me if it hurts. I'll go slow." Bash almost laughed out loud at her wink as she repeated his own words back to him, but then her hands were moving and he forgot what was funny.
"Are you--sure--you've never--done this before?" he managed after a moment, bracing himself on the table.
"Pretty sure," Mary replied primly. Bash tried not to notice where her shift was damp with sweat and clinging. "But that doesn't mean I've never gotten a few tips." There was that wicked grin again, and then Bash was coming into her fist and somehow his head ended up resting against her chest. It was strange that after what they'd just done, he still felt like he shouldn't be so close to her.
Mary didn't seem bothered, however, as she wrapped her arms around him once more and breathed deeply into his damp hair.
"Bash," she whispered, barely audible.
He knew this couldn't last. He knew it shouldn't happen again, even. But, Bash figured, at least they could enjoy this moment.